The Judgment of King Kieran #7
“The only true thing that Finian has said since he came to this court is that he does not want the Knighthood,” Cristina said.
She was standing very tall and proud as she spoke; Kieran thought she looked magnificent.
“From the moment Mark and I came into the banquet, we sensed demonic magic. We knew it was coming from one of the heirs, but we didn’t know which one.
When we spoke to the heirs this morning, we discovered a problem—each of them had an object that they claimed had been given to them by Kieran, each one infused by demonic magic.
But as we discussed earlier, just because we are led to believe that a message or gift is from Kieran doesn’t mean it really is.
The gifts were meant to hide which claimant was actually using demonic magic.
At first we discounted Finian, because he did not want the Knighthood, but he was the only one who lied to us, a feat no faerie should be capable of. ”
“What?” Lady Brissole said, aghast. “How could he lie?”
“As many know, I have made faeries a study of mine,” Cristina said.
“There are rare instances in which faeries can be enchanted such that they may lie, usually by demonic magic. But the lies exact a terrible price on them. Finian has been pretending to be drunk, though he’s been sober this entire time.
He was trying to hide his illness—which is not at all a hereditary condition in his family.
It is the lying that is exacting a toll on his body.
The more that Finian has lied, the sicker he has become. ”
Finian narrowed his eyes. “You say I am a liar? Name a single untruth I told you.”
Cristina tossed her dark hair. “I can, easily. Adaon told us that Finian was in the Seelie Court at Samhain, but then Finian told me that he was here at the Unseelie Court for Kieran’s birthday…
which falls on Samhain. That was a lie, and when you told it to me, you could not keep yourself from coughing up blood. ”
“This is all slander,” Finian said, but he coughed again and had to wipe blood from his mouth.
“Enough. Open your mouth,” said Mark, glowering. He also looked magnificent, Kieran thought, even as Finian clamped his lips shut like a stubborn child. A moment later the point of Mark’s dagger was at Finian’s throat, and Finian opened his mouth, looking murderous.
Brissole gasped. Even from across the room, Kieran could see the black-and-red lines, vicious and ugly, that scored Finian’s tongue and throat. Demonic sigils.
General Winter shouldered past Mark and seized Finian, hurling him to the ground. As Finian whimpered, Winter drew his bloodred sword, and raised it high—
“Wait,” said Kieran, his voice low but forceful.
“Tell me, Finian—what did you want with this vial? You are no dark magician; no demons do your bidding. So what use could you have for it? Or, as I suspect, did someone else send you here to take it? Someone who could have a use for such a thing? Tell me who sent you to steal from me and I swear, I will show you mercy.”
Finian rolled onto his stomach and spat blood onto the floor of the throne room.
When he looked up at Kieran, his blue eyes were blazing, full of hate.
“Oh, the mercy of the great King Kieran,” he sneered, “who believes he should rule over all Seelie and Unseelie alike. Never mind that he has no real claim to the Unseelie throne. Never mind that his rule was forced on us by Shadowhunters.”
“More lies,” Mark snarled, but Kieran raised his hand, his eyebrows quirking.
“I know those words,” he said. “I know who speaks them, who believes that I covet the High King’s throne.
The Queen of Seelie sent you here.” Kieran’s voice thickened with disgust. “What sweet lies did she tell you? What promises did she make you, if you did her bidding?”
“You are wrong,” Finian hissed, wiping blood from his lips. “I have no love for the Queen of Seelie; I do not serve her. There is someone else, someone who I would die to protect. Someone whose life might be forfeit if I did not do this thing, who I must protect at all costs.”
“Who is that person?” General Winter demanded. “Why would they ask you to do this?”
“They did not ask me,” said Finian, wiping blood from his lips. “It was my choice to do this. To help them—”
Kieran felt a twinge of sympathy. He was all too aware that if someone threatened Cristina or Mark, he would do anything to save them. He passed a hand over his face. “General Winter, get Finian to his feet,” he said. “Perhaps we should, ah, put a pin in this business—”
Without a word, Geraint exploded into action, leaping onto his younger brother and stabbing downward with his broken spear. Finian gave a single choked cry as he was pinned to the floor, then went limp, clearly dead.
Kieran wheeled on the Champion of Storms. “What have you done?”
Geraint looked honestly perplexed. “You said to put a pin in him. I assumed you meant…” He gestured at Finian’s dead body, the broken spearhead protruding from his back rather like a gigantic pin. “Did I do wrong?”
Kieran sighed. “I had hoped to question him and find out in whose service he did betray his King and Court, but since he can lie, perhaps it would have yielded no truth regardless. Perhaps it is simply better that his cursed tongue is stilled forever, and his pain is at an end.”
—
Much later in the afternoon, when Kieran came into his bedchamber, Mark and Cristina were there, already packing their things. So much had happened since their arrival at the Unseelie Court. It had been breathless and a bit exciting, but Cristina was desperate to get back home.
Kieran, still dressed in his kingly finery, leaned back against the door, looking from Cristina to Mark. There was a hopelessness in his eyes that made Cristina’s heart sink, even though, outside the windows, the skies were blue and the sun was shining.
“So you are already packing to leave?” Kieran said, gently enough. “You must be desperate to get away.”
“The skies have cleared,” Mark said. “If we leave soon, we can make it back to the cottage before the sun sets.”
Kieran crossed the room and sat down on the windowsill.
Slowly, he began slipping his embroidered silk gloves from his hands.
“I don’t blame you for wanting to be away from this place,” he said, glancing around at the black-and-gray room.
“You have seen the very worst side of me here. No wonder you are hurrying away.”
Cristina dropped the skirt she was about to pack and turned to Kieran in alarm. “Not at all. We are hurrying away because—well, Kier, you never wanted us here. You have told us you wish us to remain separate from the Court, and we respect that.”
“We stayed before because we could help you here,” added Mark. “But no longer. There is no need for us to remain at the Tower to look into this Finian matter. Nor do we know yet who invited us here, or why—”
Kieran sighed. “Actually, we do know who invited you here. It was General Winter. He admitted as much to me just now in the throne room.”
“General Winter?” echoed Mark. “But why?”
“Most of us fey have little sense of demons,” Kieran said.
“But General Winter is a most ancient redcap, and in his past he has battled infernal forces. He sensed that something was amiss when the heirs arrived, but knew he could not determine its nature himself. He says he believed that you, as Shadowhunters, would unmask the truth of it. And you did. But I think there was another reason that he wanted you here.”
“What kind of reason?” said Cristina. “I did not think he even liked us.”
“It does not matter if he likes you,” said Kieran. “He is clever enough to know that an unhappy king cannot be a wise king.”
Mark and Cristina exchanged an astonished look. “But why would you be unhappy?”
Kieran almost smiled. “Because I am unhappy when I am away from you, you dolts.”
“Kieran!” Cristina exclaimed. “Of course we would have come if we thought that you needed us. You have always insisted that we stay away from Court.”
“I know,” said Kieran. “I have not wanted you here. I always told myself that it was for your safety that I wished you never to set foot in this place. But I realize now that there is more to it.” He took a deep breath. “I do not like the person I am when I’m here.”
Mark started across the room toward Kieran, then hesitated. “Well, when you’re here, you’re the King of the Unseelie Court,” he said. “It’s a role you have to play. We know that.”
“Knowing and feeling are two different things,” said Kieran.
“I’ve told myself that there are two different people—Kieran of the Hunt and Kieran the King—and that the King was no one you needed to know.
But after these days, I must admit to myself that both are as true versions of me as any.
Why was it that my father sent me away from Court?
It was because when he looked at me, he saw a threat to his throne.
He saw not a hunter, but another king. It’s as if he knew this part of me long before I ever did. ”
Cristina wanted to run across the room to Kieran, to put her hand on his shoulder, to touch his face.
But she held back, probably for the same reason Mark was holding back.
Did Kieran want their comfort? Or was he saying, again, that he could not bear for them to be here, to see him as he was?
“That’s not true,” Cristina said firmly.
“Your father was threatened by you because the people of Unseelie loved you, and they loved you because you were kind. He was threatened by all the things that made you different from him, not the things that made you the same.”
“Do you really believe that we have seen in you some kind of monster, Kier?” said Mark.
“What we have seen since we came here is a just and wise king. You broke the Spear of Storms in half because it was the wise thing, but also because you looked down the road and saw what might come of setting brother against sister, and you chose the kindest path. Even toward Finian you felt compassion. You never wanted to be king. You tried to give the crown to Adaon, but he would not take it, so you shouldered the burden alone. And though you may hate every moment of it, you are still trying to do the best you can. And we love you all the more for it.”
Kieran looked from one of them to the other, and for the first time since arriving at the Tower, Cristina saw his unguarded face.
The face they always saw at the cottage: Kieran as he was when he was not defensive or afraid of being hurt.
Slowly, he said, “You can look at me after all that has happened and tell me that you love me?”
“Yes,” said Mark, or perhaps it was Cristina, or perhaps they spoke at the same time.
Cristina reached her arms out, and Kieran was on his feet and coming toward them in a moment.
They curled into an embrace, as Kieran held Cristina close and leaned forward to kiss Mark, who stroked the back of Kieran’s neck.
Softly, Cristina said, “Your royal bed is large enough for three, but you have only ever slept in it alone. Perhaps we should redress that error.”
“An excellent idea,” said Mark.
Kieran bent to kiss Cristina, and laughed softly against her mouth. “As my consorts demand,” he said.
—
The bright blue sky had darkened with the coming of evening, and Cristina, Mark, and Kieran lay curled together in the great black royal bed.
With her head on Kieran’s shoulder and Mark’s arm around her waist, Cristina had started to feel as if things were back to the way they used to be, the three of them all together.
“I do have a question for you, Kieran,” she said.
Kieran smiled down at her. “What is it?”
“Well, we knew you had redecorated the Court, but I wasn’t expecting such—”
“Minimalism?” said Mark.
Kieran looked amused.
“Everything is gray and black and sparse and severe,” said Cristina. “It’s just not how I think of you.”
“I was trying to give as little of myself to this place as possible,” Kieran said. “To keep my inner self hidden.”
Cristina could not help but think of all the things Kieran had done to help make the cottage a home. The seeds he had planted in the gardens. The old well he had repaired. The nixie in the stream he had befriended, thus ensuring them a safe place to swim.
“It seems to me,” Mark said, “that you are trying to split yourself in half. But that is not necessary, at least where we are concerned. When we decided that we loved you, it was the whole of who you are, not just part.”
Cristina propped herself up on her elbow. “The land of Faerie was once united, but has been split in half. And one day a high monarch will need to reunite the two halves. Someone who will take the burden of ruling off your hands. And then the two halves of you, Kieran, can be whole and healed too.”
“I fear that day may be far off,” Kieran said.
“I feel it is closer than we might think,” said Mark. “But in the meantime we will make the best of what we have together.”
Kieran smiled a smile that lit up his face. “And it’s a very good best, isn’t it?” he said, and reached to draw them both into his arms.